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curlie
Trad climber
SLO, CA
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Aug 23, 2006 - 01:45am PT
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Hey Pyro, good to hear from ya! Yeah, it's funny to see the pix of Bob climbing in a place I know so well, yet never associated with climbing! Unfortunately, never got to climb with him on "my" island, I didn't go back and visit Mom during the same time that he was there. Was thinking about him a bunch in the Meadows this year... Yep, been wasting a lot of time climbing lately. It feels great!
Now enough thread hijacking, you've gotta have a scary solo story to tell.....
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:22am PT
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Here's a couple scary tidbits that didn't make it into any of my web stories.
Went to solo Kor-Beck. While high on the first pitch, a practical avalanche of rocks pours down all around me. It's a miracle that wasn't it right there. I climbed up quickly under a roof and another load sprays all around. I bail asap after that. Soon a couple experienced Yosemite climbers rapped down and said they trundled a huge block so the route would be safer. I pointed out that I wasn't feeling that safe...
Soloing the insecure 5.7 face pitch 5 of East Butt of Middle, a water bottle with a biner comes flying down straight towards me. I hang on tight and try to program my mind not to let go even if I get whacked. The bottle bounces less than two feet directly above my head and zings over me. I caught the guys who accidentally dropped it and it turned out they were local acquaintances. Cool guys.
Onsight soloed the Harding Route on the Apron up to the Oasis. Figured 5.7 how hard can it be? Always a big mistake. Routefinding was nightmare and of course there was loose rock and Lichen. Just when I was about home free, it threatened to rain (and the route is a 800 foot slab with no anchors at all) A few drops came down as I hurried to finish but never enough to make the thing too wet.
Then there was the time I soloed Commitment and banged my head hard on the crux roof move. I had to concentrate not to let go then.
Unfortunately there's more but I have to crash
Peace
Karl
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:22am PT
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good story Karl, thanks.
but how permanent was your mental refreshening from the relationship?
Just curious if it really helps or is it like taking some good drugs...I thin it is more like that latter.
I am very glad I dont have as exciting stories as some of you...
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:37am PT
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"but how permanent was your mental refreshening from the relationship? "
Referring to the Column Story? I guess it was an attempt to punctuate a change in my life with some kind of exclaimation point/period. Better than a question mark.
The real answer is who really knows?
PEace
Karl
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pcousar
Sport climber
White Salmon, WA
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Aug 23, 2006 - 03:52pm PT
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Like many solos, this started when a partner bailed on me in North Conway, so I figured I head to MA to see the folks. Took the scenic drive via Cannon. Once the cliff came into view I knew the time was right for the whitney gilman solo (about 700'). I was so stoked when I left the ground that I forgot to bring shoes for the hike down... Realized this about 1/3 of the way up, and continued on. Got down going barefoot half the time...
Saw that huntington's ravine mentioned. After an ice climbing 'class' on Katahdin I hiked up to odels gulley memorial day weekend. Proceded to chop steps with one axe and no crampons. that was nerve racking!
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 23, 2006 - 03:55pm PT
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Man.... it is times like this when I really miss Walt...... He had the best solo stories.
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sevrdhed
Boulder climber
salt lake city
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Aug 23, 2006 - 04:12pm PT
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"I will never forget about 30 years ago when I started climbing. There was a climb called Bushwhack Crack, a 5.8 that kicked my ass. A local hardman, Rick Wyatt was often seen climbing it sans rope and continuing for a couple more pitches to the top of the Gate Buttress in LCC. His ascents seemed so solid that it became the image in my head of what climbing could and should be. That was my first exposure to soloing and at that time it seemed like something I wanted to do once I got good enough. "
Just thought it was funny that the first soloing story in here starts off with something about bushwhack crack.
About 30 years ago now, my father was soloing bushwhack crack, showing off for his girlfriend at the time (my mother), and her little sister. He ended up falling about 20 or 30 feet up, hitting the rock at the base of the climb, and shattering his leg. After getting rescued, recovering, having kids, etc, he introduced me to climbing. Finally, a couple of years ago, after not having climbed for 25 years, I managed to get him out to climb. We're now working towards his lifelong (since 2nd grade) goal of climbing the Great White Throne, down in Zion.
Anyway, wanted to relate that little bit. Thanks for the thread!
Steve
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 23, 2006 - 04:33pm PT
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Walt's solo stories,
Always told with a trademark giddiness and bubbly enthusiasm.
It seemed he thrived on encountering the curve ball pitch on every excursion; he relished the out of the box full throttle escapes.
It was a rare thing for Walt to enjoy an inconsequential, tame and controlled outing when on the solo. He lived for the wild thing.
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looking sketchy there...
Social climber
Latitute 33
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Aug 23, 2006 - 05:01pm PT
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Although I gave up soloing for Lent, a few moments on the rock, sans rope, still stand out:
Met a Curry Co girl who was interested in going climbing and we arranged to meet around 1:00 pm. What was needed was a quick climb or two to fill in the morning. Central Pillar seemed a good prospect for a quick solo. After all there were always people doing it, so I figure it would be easy to just snatch a ride down on their ropes when finished.
I get to the base and no-one is on the thing, but some friends are racking up at the base. No problem, I'll just head up and wait for them, they shouldn't take too long. At the top of the 5th pitch, I pull out a butt bag and clip into the anchor and wait, and wait, and wait... No sign of anyone, though I can't see below the roof at the beginning of the 3rd pitch.
After what seems like ages (and risking missing my "date") I yell over to climbers raping down Paradise Lost. "So you see anyone on the lower pitches below me?" The answer is "No!"
I think, sh#t, those a**holes bailed and left me stranded. So, after a few moments, I figure it is downclimb time and mentally psych for the moves down the route (the exit moves out of the dihedral atop pitch 1 seem like the diciest to reverse).
After downclimbing Pitch 5 and 4, a head pops up above the roof. I think, phew..."Hey, what happened to you guys?" Seems they almost did bail, but only continued because I was waiting. We all rap from atop pitch 3. But the real bummer of the whole thing is I was very late for my date and we never did go climbing... She ends up hooking up with some Valley regular and took to climbing (and him) with great enthusiasm.
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 05:43pm PT
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now see, theres a cost to soloing that most guys dont think about...
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10b4me
Trad climber
California
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Aug 23, 2006 - 06:05pm PT
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I have a page with 8 solo stories here
If you just read one, read the Washington Column Direct one
Karl, I've read that story a few times. Still gives me the willies.
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Blitzo
Social climber
Earth
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Aug 23, 2006 - 07:07pm PT
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sevrdhed, is this the "Bushwhack Crack" that you spoke of?
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handsome B
Gym climber
Saskatoon, Saskatchawan
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Aug 23, 2006 - 07:22pm PT
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The One and Only, Blitzo
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James
climber
A tent in the redwoods
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Aug 23, 2006 - 08:27pm PT
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Golsen,
cost smost
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 23, 2006 - 08:31pm PT
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Awesome stories everyone! Here is one, sorry if it is overlong...
For something different...
I had become interested in backcountry skate skiing mid 90's. Used to race nordic seriously in the mid 80's, and I got on this kick of "the biggest piece of stone with the least amount of gear" realizing that there were good possibilities to take this into the winter sliding realm. So driving into the valley over Crane Flat on the kind of clear day when you can see your favorite wall pitches etched starkly in the sky, I get a vision of the Buena Vista Crest and Merced Peak, shimmering in the distance. Knowing that it had not snowed in 2 weeks, and having just dug some pits with teens in Tahoe, I deem the conditions auspicious. With no pre-trip planning save for a phone call to each of my strong skiing bro's, Messick on the Westside, Moynier on the East, who would know where to look if I did not return, I set off the next morning from Badger Pass with fischer rcs skating skis, and a fanny pack, next stop Mammoth Mountain. Over the long day, I find what I am seeking, a deeper connection to the terrain and condition. Slopes that I would cruise down asleep on heavy metals, I must ski with total awareness of the finer scale of slope and divet, crust and corn, cool blue powder, and wind scoured ice. One wrong turn and I would break my little carbon toothpicks, and suffer a very long trudge back. I spend the long February night traversing the north face of Triple Divide Peak. I take a few naps on my little square of ensolite, in a bivy sack, until I start shivering, then get back up to keep on sliding. One time I get into overly steep terrain, start kicking steps down in the dark, till I come to a cliff edge the bottom of which is too far for my headlamp beam to reach, head back up and find another way. Dawn is spectacular and finds me on the ridgetop of Long Mountain. I wait for an hour for the sun to soften the steep slope I must descend, then kick with my little Salomons down through the cornices, using the skis as alpenstocks, then swooping big turns with echoing yells, no one is around to hear but me and the Clarks nutcrackers who, amazingly, winter over up there. One memory is a "blue room", below the sun line, I am back on frozen crust traversing a vortex circling down to a frozen lake. It does not look possible on my edgeless skis till I notice the pattern of texture on the snow, that had melted and refroze in little lines all heading one direction, I find it enough to keep my skis going straight if I stay in the correct orientation. The rest of the morning is some miles of contour, where the skating skis really shine, high speed traversing across the headwaters of the San Joaquin. The crux descent is the final slope down to Twin Island Lakes. Entering the slope, I traverse across some nice windboard, saying to myself "dont stop, you'll just get gripped" then I look back and see my tiny tracks like dull knife marks in the slope, and the 300ft cliff below my line. Late that evening after a big climb up to Catherine Lake, an awesome descent to 1000 Island Lake on blown-in powder, I take a wrong turn and head all the way down to the San Joaquin instead of up to Deadman Pass. By this time I am beyond bonk, headlamp batteries gone, and lost in the volcanic zone around Devils postpile. The grain of the granitic landscape that I have been so easily following devolves into complete volcanic chaos, creeks seem to be flowing the wrong way, I keep thinking that I will top out on the plateau of Agnew Meadow, only to hit another ridgetop and struggle down the other side. Finally, I say f*ck it, I will simply head east and hit the desert by morning, just then at last I ski onto the road down by Reds meadow. A long skate back to Minaret Pass, and I am heading down the road. I am so psyched, after 36 hours and 10 powerbars I am starving to death, a steak dinner at the Mammoth Mountain Inn is 2 downhill miles ahead! All of a sudden, the tracks I am following veer left, I am bombing down a hill, and it takes 5 minutes to realize I have followed rental snow machine tracks to Inyo Crater overlook, the wrong road. Back up the hill, at last I hit the lodge half hour after the kichen closed. I take the last shuttle into town, only place open is the dive pizza and wings joint, all I have is an amex card and a few checks, which the dude wont take. I offer to leave my gear and come back and pay in the morning but he aint having it. Finally, desperate I say f*cking feed me or call an ambulance! he pulls some quarters out of the tip jar and gives me a slice, just enough to hobble to Motel 6 where the sweet lass gives me quarters off my amex and I devour all the crackers in the vending machine. Moral of the story, I have learned that when it really matters, blow off the powerbars and bring salmon meat, cheese and trailmix.
Peter
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 08:46pm PT
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sheesh blinny. The case of the missin rope. I think Id be lookin for it too.
James - uh err mmmm huh? OK
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 24, 2006 - 12:15am PT
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Peter writes: f*cking feed me or call an ambulance!
kick assssss
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 24, 2006 - 12:31am PT
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EKaterina,
Greetings! It has been awhile since I've seen you at ol tamarack. Thanks for posting that terrifying story, your man is a lucky man!
XO
Peter
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tom ward
Trad climber
The Back Yard, CA
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Aug 24, 2006 - 01:26am PT
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What do you do when you have weekdays off and nobody to climb with? You climb alone. Night climbing at the Leap is the best. Soloing The Line by headlamp is pure heaven. Soloing East Corner by headlamp is pure HELL!!!!!!
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